Paint It Black
by Red Bess Rackham
Summary: Tom Riddle had officially disappeared from the world's scope. Lord Voldemort was emerging and was not someone to be trifled with. For the Voldemort Songfic Challenge, from sgkat. Based on Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones. Oneshot. Non-humor.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own any Harry Potter nor Rolling Stones related material. I am not making any money off of this little story. If I was, I wouldn't be here, posting it.

**A/n: **This was written for the "Voldemort Songfic" challenge set forth by sgkat. It's sort of disjointed with a few lyrcis slipped in here and there (not enough to get pulled from FF for using song lyrics, as I believe songfics with all the lyrcis are now against the rules or something). Anyways, so sgkat, this is dedicated to you, as you set forth the challenge. Hopefully this is what you were looking for!

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**Paint It Black**

He was gaining power and followers. Tom Riddle had officially disappeared from the world's scope. Lord Voldemort was emerging and was not someone to be trifled with.

_I see a red door and I want it painted black._

He was someone to be feared and respected. He had a mission of sorts: to become the most powerful wizard that ever lived and to live forever. Soon the world would be his.

_No colors anymore, I want them to turn black._

Before the disappearances and the murders began, he could walk down the street. He was still undergoing a physical transformation to fully become Lord Voldemort, and thus garnered a few stares. Many, in fact.

_I see a line of cars and they're all painted black._'

He smirked. The world around him had no idea of the pure darkness that was in store for them. People may glance twice at his unusually pale face, reddish colored eyes, and feel slightly uneasy by this appearance. Most of them did not yet know to associate the name of Lord Voldemort with this frightening and strange looking man. They soon would.

_I see people turn their heads and quickly look away._

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Voldemort can't help but feel some note of pride at what he has become. What he has achieved. What he _will_ achieve. The darkness that consumes him only makes him stronger. It always has.

_I look inside myself and see my heart is black._

Those that gather to him like sheep are all wanting the same thing. Recognition, power, a leader, a world they think will be perfect, a share in the darkness, among other things. Selfish, cowardly, hot-headed, blindly loyal… they all have a certain quality to offer in return, which Voldemort plans to make the most of. Use it against them, manipulate them, whatever it takes to further himself towards his goals. His greatest weapon is fear and he uses it well. It is by far the most effective of weapons anyways.

_I see a red door and I want it painted black… No colors anymore, I want them to turn black._

The fear grows when the disappearances begin, then multiplies tenfold once the murders become a regular occurrence. His name fast becomes massively famous – or, actually, notorious. The fear becomes practically palpable and he basks in it, and in his power as a result of it all.

_I want to see your face, painted black, black as night, black as coal._

Those who resist are no match for him. They don't know his secret. They don't know how hard he's worked to escape death. They couldn't possibly grasp any _idea_ of what he's been through. Lord Voldemort can fight opposition with no fear of his own, because he knows he cannot lose.

_I want to see the sun blotted out from the sky._

Born to those who thrice defied him, the prophecy says. The one who could defeat him. He scoffs that anyone could truly defeat him. Yet he takes no chances. Voldemort learns he has two options as to who the prophecy speaks of. He guesses which would be more of a threat. He'll have the other one dealt with later. He is not worried. He knows he will triumph as he always does. His power will always overcome any obstacles. He has never failed.

He can't help but smile, that crisp Halloween night, as he approaches the dimly lit house.

_I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black…_

-End-

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**A/n**: Just a shortie. I appreciate any and all reviews/feedback/etc. Thanks for reading! 


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